


You're my fault, my weakness

by wearetheluckyones



Series: Photographer Nick/Teacher Louis [2]
Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Photographer Nick, Smut, Teacher Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 21:18:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14627232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearetheluckyones/pseuds/wearetheluckyones
Summary: It’s been six months since Nick’s project, and Christmas and Louis’s birthday are coming up fast. Louis’s invited Nick to his family’s place for the holidays, and Nick can’t help but be nervous.





	You're my fault, my weakness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YesIsAWorld](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YesIsAWorld/gifts).



> I was meant to post this at Christmas and I lost it in the files on my hard drive and only just now found it, so have a really late Christmas Fic. 
> 
> Also, apologies to YesIsAWorld, who was promised a Photography Universe Christmas fic and never got it, I love you and I'm an awful person.
> 
> Title taken from Take Me Home by Cash Cash and Bebe Rexha.

Louis’s in Nick’s flat when he gets home from work, sitting in the armchair by the balcony in only his pants with a cigarette and a cup of tea. When he sees Nick, he smiles so soft and tired and beautiful that Nick’s heart hurts.  
   
“Hey, pet, didn’t know you’d be here.” Nick says, dropping his bag at the door and placing his camera case on the hallway table. He walks to Louis and leans down to press a kiss to his mouth. “You taste good.”  
   
“Niall has Zayn over, didn’t really wanna be around for all the mushy crap.” Louis replies, turning the cigarette between his fingers around so the filter’s facing Nick, and Nick takes a drag. “At the last of your mum’s gingerbread cookies. Sorry.”  
   
“S’all good, my love. I’ll just get some more the next time I see her.” Nick answers, blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth, towards the window. “How was your day?”  
   
“Boring as fuck.” Louis tells him, tilting his head up for another kiss. “Talked with Dan a bit, ‘bout an hour ago. Wondered if you were coming with me.”  
   
“Where?”  
   
“Christmas, you twit.” Louis rolls his eyes and takes a drag of the cigarette, butting it out in the ashtray. “We talked about it.”  
   
Nick chews on his lip. They _had_ talked about it. Nick would like to pretend they hadn’t, but they had. “Yeah.”  
   
“Is that a ‘ _yes, I’ll go_ ’, or a ‘ _yes, we talked about it_ ’?” Louis asks, narrowing his eyes. They’d had a fight about it already, about Nick attending the Tomlinson Christmas and meeting the family, and they’d not talked for almost a week, too angry at each other.  
   
“I just-”  
   
“Why do you have such a big problem with it?” Louis asks, scowling at Nick. “I’ve met your family, why can’t you meet mine?”  
   
“I’ve already told you, Louis. Christmas is bigger than Sunday dinner with my mum and dad.” Nick says, pulling away from Louis and the armchair, toeing his shoes off in front of his shoe rack. “It’s not just your step-dad, or even your sisters, it’s your step-dad and your siblings and your grandparents and whoever trickles in on Christmas day. How’d you feel if I’d chucked you in head first? My mum and my dad, Andy and Jane and Liv, and my pops and nan all at once? You’d’ve bitten me head off.”  
   
“I told you we could have dinner first, like with Eileen and Peter!” Louis says, groaning.  
   
“We’ve been together six months, Lou. S’just too soon.” Nick replies, shoving his jacket from his shoulders and hanging it in the cupboard.  
   
Nick doesn’t even realise Louis’s gotten off the armchair until he’s being shoved – not very hard, but hard enough to make him stumble.  
   
Louis’s next to him, scowling. “You’re such a cunt.”  
   
“What’ve I done now? I’m being perfectly reasonable!” Nick cries when Louis shoves him again, back into the wall, standing in front of him with his arms across his chest. He doesn’t look very imposing like this, almost naked and at least a foot shorter than Nick, but looks can be deceiving, especially when it comes to Louis.  
   
“No you’re not, you’re being stupid.” Louis replies. “Unless I’m mistaken, you love me more than air.”  
   
“Obviously, but-”  
   
“And if you weren’t aware, I feel the same. So, your reason isn’t that you’re unsure about our seriousness, you’re just being a pussy. You think Dan and Lottie and Felicite and the twins won’t like you, and you think if they tell me so, I’ll decide they're right and break your heart into a million pieces."  
   
“No.” Nick lies, wincing. He hates when Louis says shit like that, like he can read Nick’s mind, like he knows everything there is to know about Nick when he tries desperately to keep it all inside.  
   
“No?” Louis replies, scowl deepening. “No. Fine then, I’m goin’ home.”  
   
Nick doesn’t stop him as he gets dressed, feels glued to the wall, and bangs his head back against it when Louis slams the door shut as he leaves. “Bollocks.”  
   
-*-*-  
   
Their silence lasts less time than it had before, Louis banging on Nick’s door at midnight while he’s editing photos, barging in when Nick opens it for him and pressing Nick against the back of the door, licking into his mouth.  
   
“Jesus, Lou.” Nick groans, getting his hands under Louis’s thighs, pulling him up so his legs are around Nick’s hips.  
   
“Stop talking.” Louis pants, snaking his arms around Nick’s neck. He smells like cheap beer, sweat and cigarettes, and gets his face in Louis’s throat, licking the salt from his skin. “Christ, need you in me, Nick, please.”  
   
Nick pushes himself off the door and walks blindly to the bed, falling over onto it when he’s not expecting his knees to hit the end of the mattress.  
   
Louis giggles, and Nick had missed that sound. A day without Louis is a day too long.  
   
“You smell good.” Nick says, hushed, pressing hot, wet kisses to Louis’s throat. “You always smell so good.”  
   
It’s a struggle, stopping their kisses to get them free of clothes, but they do eventually, and then they’re naked and everything is hot and slick with sweat and Nick feels like his entire body’s on fire.  
   
Nick’s never been with anyone like Louis. He’s like a hurricane, whenever Nick’s with him, he feels like he’s caught in the eye of the storm. Maybe that’s why the thought of being rejected by Louis’s family hurts so much; Nick lives for the rush Louis’s presence gives him, for the kisses and the fights and the sex and the soft, slow moments where the entire world has narrowed down to just Nick and just Louis, and the way their hearts beat in sync when they’re together.  
   
“Lou.” And just that one word feels loaded, breathy and tight, like a prayer. Nick wraps his hands around Louis’s jaw, thumbing at his cheek bone as he kisses him, soft and carefully like Louis might break in his arms. “I love you.”  
   
“I know.” Louis says, mouth so close to Nick’s, eyes closed, breathing in shallowly. “I love you, too.”  
   
Nick’s gets Louis stretched and slick before sliding his cock into him, towering over him, elbows pressed into the mattress by his ears, boxing him in, shielding him from the outside world.  
   
“Fuck, Nick, please.” Louis whines, fringe plastered to his forehead with sweat, eyes open and staring up at Nick. His pupils are blown wide, and the black’s swallowed the clear ocean blue, and Louis looks almost animalistic. “C’mon, I need it.”  
   
“I know, pet, I know.” Nick says, voice hushed, leaning down to press a kiss to Louis mouth, so soft and slow, a juxtaposition to the pump of his hips, hard and rough and strong.  
   
“Need it harder, please Nick.” Louis begs, fingers threading into Nick’s hair and tugging until his scalp hurts. Nick thinks if he fucked Louis any harder he’d break him, but he does it anyway, get his arms under Louis’s armpits, hands curling around Louis’s shoulders, pumping his cock into him faster and harder until Louis can’t form words anymore, can only whimper and whine and moan, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back.  
   
Nick doesn’t know how long they stay like that, trapped in their own little bubble world, hot and slick and loud and _so, so much_ , but he thinks about getting his hand around Louis’s cock, pulling him off. He doesn’t need to, then, not when Louis’s back suddenly curves obscenely, and he explodes over their chests, calling out Nick’s name.  
   
Louis’s whimpering as Nick continues to fuck him to his own orgasm, and he has to be oversensitive, but he’s not complaining. He’s egging Nick on with short little twists of his hips and the squeeze of his arsehole, begging and begging: “Wan’it, please, wan’it.”  
   
A supernova erupts behind Nick’s eyes as he comes, grinding his cock inside Louis one last time before stilling and groaning Louis’s name into his shoulder. Louis smells like sex and sweat and cigarettes and stale beer, and Nick doesn’t think he’s ever smelt anything better.  
   
“I’m sorry.” Louis says once they’ve come down, voice quiet, barely a whisper. “I’m sorry for nagging.”  
   
Nick nuzzles into Louis’s check and presses a soft kiss to Louis mouth. “I love you so much.”  
   
Louis scratches his nails against Nick’s scalp at the base of his skull and nuzzles right back. “I know. I love you, too.”  
   
-*-*-  
   
It eventually becomes clear that their make-up was not an ending to the argument.

“You should get some of these off your mum and bring ‘em to Christmas.” Louis says a few days later, sitting in the armchair by the balcony with the box of gingerbread cookies Nick’s mum had made in his lap. He’s in only his pants again, even though it’s barely ten degrees out and the heater's busted, and Nick starts to wonder if it’s a thing. The first time he sat in the armchair he was naked, and now he can’t sit in it clothed.  
   
“Louis.” Nick says, warningly, puttering around in the kitchen, making egg and bacon sandwiches for dinner because they were too lazy for anything else. “I thought we’d finished this.”  
   
Louis doesn’t reply, and Nick turns from the frypan to look over at him. He’s eating the legs off the gingerbread man in his hand and looking up at Nick with these wide, faux innocent eyes. “Lottie’s hanging out to meet you. She was well impressed with the photos on your Instagram. Says she’s been stalkin’ you. Wants to bend your ear about editing or summat.”  
   
Nick sighs. “I hate when you do that.”  
   
“Do what?”  
   
“Talk like you’ve already made the decision for me.” Nick answers, taking the toast that’s just popped out of the toaster. “Like I don’t get to make any of my own.”  
   
“Nick, please.” And Louis’s not in the armchair anymore, he’s wrapped around Nick’s back, head under Nick’s t-shirt, cheek pressed into his shoulder blade. “Please?”  
   
“Stop asking.” Nick says, curling his fingers in Louis’s on his belly, relaxing into Louis’s hold. “If you stretch out my t-shirt I’ll be so mad, Lou.”  
   
“I love you.” Louis says, voice mumbled against Nick’s skin. “Please?”  
   
“You’re going to give me an aneurysm.” Nick replies, taking his hands for Louis’s to take the bacon and eggs out of the frying pan and placing them on the pieces of toast with cheese. “I love you, too.”  
   
“Is that a yes?”  
   
“That is a firm no.”  
   
“I’ll suck your dick.”  
   
Nick snorts. “You’d do that anyway.”  
   
“True.” Louis says, pulling himself away from Nick and out from under his shirt, sliding next to him, picking up one of the already-made sandwiches and taking a bite. “I honestly don’t get why you don’t want to come. Like, give me a real, proper reason you think my family won’t like you?”  
   
“I’m a decade older than you are.”  
   
“That’s it?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow, taking another bite of the sandwich, getting barbeque sauce all over his chin. “You gotta come up with something better, old man.”  
   
Nick laughs softly, picking up a tea towel and wiping the sauce from Louis’s chin. “Isn’t that enough?”  
   
“Nope.”  
   
“All we ever do is fight.”  
   
Louis rolls his eyes at Nick. “The only time one our fights ever hurt my feelings was when you called me fat, and that was before we were even together.”  
   
“I am really sorry about that.”  
   
Louis shrugs, smiling softly at Nick. “I know. And I don’t hold it against you.” He takes another bite of his sandwich, puts it back down on the counter and slides between Nick and the cupboards, licking sauce from his lips. “Our fights are like… foreplay. They kinda turn me on. Next argument.”  
   
“We’re very, very different people.”  
   
“Niall and Zayn are very, very, _very_ different people and they’ve been together for almost five years.” Louis replies, curling his fists in Nick’s t-shirt, pulling him closer. “Next argument.”  
   
“Teaching is an _actual_ career. Photography…”  
   
“Is also an _actual_ career. Next?”  
   
“I’m out of reasons.”  
   
Louis laughs, patting Nick’s cheek. “Can I tell you why I know they’ll love you, now?” Nick shrugs, and Louis smiles softly, stretching up to brush his nose against Nick’s. “You’re smart, even if you act really dumb sometimes, and you’re gorgeous, even if your hair is ridiculous. You’re crazy creative, and I mean crazy, you’re kind, and charming, and funny, and generous. And you have an enormously large cock.”  
   
“I don’t think you should be telling your family that.” Nick says, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt.  
   
“Besides, my family aren’t very picky people.” Louis says with a little smirk, his eyes shining with mirth.  
   
Nick head butts Louis softly. “Arsehole.” He says, leaning down to press a quick kiss to Louis’s mouth. “I love you, and I’ll think about it.”  
   
Louis’s answering smile is so beautiful, Nick’s whole heart melts into a puddle of goo, and he decides, then, that he’ll go.  
   
He’ll just make Louis wait to hear it.


End file.
